


100 drabbles before the world ends

by Herowasp



Category: Original Work, Sirius Academy (Roleplay Series)
Genre: And other people lol - Freeform, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gabe needs rest and therapy, Hurt No Comfort, Multi, So does everyone in Rebuild, The Sirius group is a mess, The Von Flanks are here too but I don’t feel like typing 50+ names, im should be doing homework but here I am, luckily no smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 7,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28515528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herowasp/pseuds/Herowasp
Summary: 100 drabbles about characters from my roleplay series Sirius Academy.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. A drink to be shared yet drank by one

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers

A disheveled man, his eyes sunken in, clouded with pain and grief, sits on the floor of a room. The contents of which is thrown about, surrounded by notes, posters and a sort of comm system to communicate with the rest of the dorm. It looks vibrant, as though at one point it was full of life. But now it just seems incomplete. 

In the middle of the room, sits the man. Next to a wooden table that seems to have seen its years of wear and tear. Scratches and markings full of wistful youth. A flame doused out so quickly.

With a chime from his phone, the new year dawns and the man cracks the drink open. An Arizona Iced Tea Half & Half. He puts the drink up in a half hearted toast and says, 

“Happy New Year Vincent.”

he places the drink down, and he weeps.


	2. Maybe for even a minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how to swim?

It’s suffocating, the stares. They linger, watching your every move as their hatred pours through their stares and glances like venom. It’s overwhelming. 

No matter where you go, where _I_ go they follow. Regardless of the circumstance. The whispers and glances linger. 

Their hatred, and their loathing surrounds me. My throat calms up and I choke on it. That’s how it’s supposed to be after all, I was made to drown in those feelings. I deserve this hatred.

“Do you?” He says, his cat like golden eyes shimmering with perpetual pride.

Do I? Their voices surround me, clouding my opinion. 

_Of course you do, you earned it. Your cruel vile actions earned this loathing. You were made to be hated, this is your mistake and you will pay for it._

In truth, they’re right. I made a mistake and I should suffer for it. If it means drowning in hatred forever, never to surface then so be it.

For a moment the conversation is submerged in silence. 

Then he cracks a can of iced lemonade open, I didn’t even know they came in cans.

“I don’t think you do.” He says relaxing on the iron railings behind him, the sun setting in an explosion of color behind him. It’s said when an artist dies God allows them to paint the sky.

_I bet one of those artists painted that sky today was one you killed, in cold blood without any remorse._

“Ya’ wanna know what I think?” He says, cocking his head back towards me, I see myself in his eyes. Fragile, weak, sinful.

“Sure.” 

“I say fuck ‘em.” He says grabbing another can from his bag and tossing it to me. “They can hate me all they want thats their choice, and it’s your choice whether you let their hatred get to you or not.” 

Failing my arms around before eventually catching and cracking open the can, I allow the lemony zest scent to linger while I stare at the bubbles. 

I take a sip, and for a moment the sea calms, the glances halt, the whispers quiet, and maybe for even a minute, everything’s alright.


	3. All at once, wilting and burned away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you own a lighter?

Over the years various responsibilities have stacked up like bricks on an old wooden desk. While some bricks are heavier than others the heaviest weighs on the desk the most. Like that desk I also have a heavy brick, it lingers over me, weighing me down and submerging me in endless waves of a shallow self worth. 

I hate it.

The feeling of uselessness, of being unwanted, unneeded as if I don’t even matter.

I loathe it.

The fact that I left all those years ago and they still don’t seem to care, to give a rats ass. 

I’m filled head to toe in a rage nothing can quench. 

Well, there is one thing.

Those papers, they stared at me, boring holes in me for years ever since I was dropped off at that hell hole. Left to rot in the back corner as my white hair was coated with dust and my golden eyes lost their shine, like a forgotten doll in the corner of the shelf. 

Even when I stole them, right from under their noses no one bat an eye. When they looked at me they didn’t see, Kou “the unwanted one” or Kou “the murderer” they didn’t see anyone at all. They never did, no one did,

and I hated it.

But now there’s nothing to hate, or at least there won’t be. The papers are fuel and my feelings are a flame, once lit everything I’ve felt with burn up and wilt away. And today, I will strike a match, throw it down, and watch them burn.

All these feelings, all these years of no one seeing me at all, all at once turning to ash.

I stare into the flames, smoldering, bright, beautiful. They reflect into my golden eyes, 

and I love it.


	4. Inquiries on proper canine expeditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you own a dog?

A rather pale looking young man hangs upside down by the knees on a pole in a dimly lit room, only illuminated by a small moon like lamp in the upper right corner of the room. The lamp illuminates his blank white hair and pale skin with defined collarbones and almost perfect eyelashes. 

While the teen appears to be sleeping his jet black eyelashes flutter open revealing his blood red eyes that peer over towards the dark wood door on said room.

“Come in?” A devilishly sweet voice trickles from the boy’s mouth, showing off his fangs. 

The door swings open revealing another teen whose reddish pink hair accentuates the curious look on his face. In his hand appears to be a dog leash of some short.

“I didn’t even knock yet! That’s really cool, and kinda freaky.” He says cheekily taking in a glance around the room before looking up to meet the ethereal looking teen in the eyes.

“I’ve done that many ‘a times before Daigo, call it.. intuition.” He replies with a smirk before telling his body around the pole until he’s sitting on it with ease and poise of a professional. “So, you own a dog?”

Daigo looks a bit confused before glancing at the leash in his hand and realizing.

“Oh no, that’s what I’m here to ask you.” He says holding up the leash smiling as though what he’s saying makes any sort of sense. “I wanted to know if you would walk me.”

“You mean go on a walk with you.” The crimson eyed ten responds.

“No, I mean walk me, like a dog. I’ve never done it before so I thought I’d try.”

“You want me, to put a leash on you and walk you around.”

“Yes.”

The fanged young man peers down at his pinkish haired counterpart. Given his almost doglike disposition and personality he looked incredibly excited.

“Would you like me to put a muzzle on you too? Though I don’t think I’ll be able to get them in human sizes in time for the walk to happen today.” The fanged young man whispers in a sweet voice, sending chills down Daigo’s spine.

A moment passes in which Daigo’s face goes from a bit shocked and still peach colored to beet red and flabbergasted.

“WHAT! ELLIOT! UGH! I MEANT I’D TURN INTO A DOG AND BE WALKED NOT- Ugh ew not like that!” Daigo shouts visibly showing his disgust and such a claim.

The ethereal looking young man, Elliot, purses his lips on a smirk before eventually releasing an intoxicating laugh from his lips, crescendoing across the room, showcasing his fangs and forked tongue.

“Don’t laugh at me! Ugh why’d you have to make this weird!” Daigo exclaims in a bit of a joking tone but still a bit embarrassed.

“I’m not making it anything it’s not, I was simply asking if you’d like to be muzzled on your walk, did you take it another way?” Elliot responds sweetly.

For a moment Daigo somehow turns even redder before sighing.

“Nevermind I’m gonna ask Ji-Woo instead you’re making this weird” Daigo says closing the door, the illumination light from the hallway dimming until finally disappearing when the door closes.

Elliot simply hums before hanging from the pole once more.


	5. A boy and his knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you loved?

There once was a dark haired boy, his skin fairer than any maiden in the land and his skin softer than any cloud in the sky.

Everyday people would come in droves proclaiming their affections for the boy, oh how they loved him. Some spend their salaries in an attempt to simply touch a lock of his jet black hair while others flocked to his legs which they caressed and prodded with glee.

Contented, the boy was, drowned in so much love. The boy did not know any other ways. Despite in content the boy did not, nor would he ever, love these people back.

Soon the boy was acquired by a King, who loved the boy the most out of anyone in the land, with riches to back it up. Showered in gold with strong men at his ever beck and call, the king had it all.

The boy was whisked away to the King’s chamber, and loved in abundance everyday and every night, brandished in bountiful wealth but only what was deemed needed and the King loved every minute.

The boy, while showered in love for the king, felt nothing for him. While the boy did not complain nor squander his name when the boy did not admit his love for the king he was punished severely. 

The boy was made an outcast, left in the cellars until able to love the King the boy became skinny and frail, in the cellars fans of the boy professed their love for him and showered the boy in their love once more. And the boy came to a realization.

The formerly black haired boy was freed from the cellars and returned to the King’s castle with blank white hair akin to the love he had received in all these years.

The King welcomed the boy into his chambers once more and was prepared to shower the boy with love he could not accept, but soon the walls were kicked down.

In a second the King’s head had fallen, and his life vanished from this world.

In a moment the boy looked up at his savor, his knight.

At once, the boy fell in love.


	6. of first meetings and final goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long is your hair?
> 
> (For the best experience please read while Mr.Loverman by Ricky Montgomery plays)

“Hey, what’re you reading?” asks a young black haired boy, his mismatched eyes shining with curiosity as he glanced over the shoulder of the other boy to get a better view of his book.

The other boy’s long black locks cascade down his back and face as he wipes the stray locks away from his eyes, placing his book down to turn towards the curious boy. His green eyes scanning the curious boy for a few seconds as the curious boy smiles and fidgets in anticipation. 

“It’s a facts almanac you wouldn’t like it.” The boy responds cooly. 

“Oh cool, I’m Vincent by the way what’s your name?” The curious boy says, leaning in closer to the other boy, nearly knocking him over in the process.

“.. I’m Gabriel.” The long haired boy answers quietly, living up his glasses and moving his bangs from his eyes.

“Gabe it is! Y’know I think you’d look good with Shorter hair!” 

“I dunno about that..”

“Just trust me!!”  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Two tall adolescents stand in a hallway, one with long dark green locks and the other with slightly disheveled black hair. The black haired one’s eyes have wandered off to a corner of the hall, unfocused and uncaring. The other stops their one sided chatter and turns to him.

“Alright, I’ll bite what’re you thinking about?” Vincent asks with a casual tone as he pats the unfocused teen’s broad back.

“Nothing, just when we first met.” Gabe responds, with a slight cough as he turns to face his flamboyant friend. 

“How romantic Gabriel, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me, with those lovely eyes of yours.” Vincent responds comfortably in a flirtatious tone.

“Think whatever you want Vincent.” He sighs facing back forward.

A moment passes as they relax in comfortable silence. Comforted in each other’s presence for a time. The quiet halls of their deserted school and dry brick walls lining the hallways turning into nothing more but a backdrop for a moment of peace.

“I’m in love with you y’know.” Vincent admits quietly.

“I know.” Gabe responds, his voice hushed and his eyes closed.

“I mean it.”

“I know, I love you too.”

“But not in the way I want.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry.” Gabe apologizes, his voice filled with remorse. “You deserve someone much better, you should love someone else.”

“I wish I could.” 

A firm hand begins to ruffle Gabriel’s ragged locks as he flies his eyes open to see Vincent with a somber smile on his face.

“But honestly, I wouldn’t pick anyone else.” Vincent admits tenderly.

“But I can’t love you, not in the way you want.” Gabe reasons, no- pleads with Vincent, practically begging him to let go, to find someone better.

“I know, I’m okay with that.” Vincent responds. “Now about that haircut I told you about years ago, how about getting one now?”

A small smile appears on Gabe’s face. 

“In your dreams Vincent.”  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A single man stands over a clearing, surrounded by various flowers. He bends down, placing his bouquet at the grave bellow him, the stone looks fresh. The bouquet of pink carnations and edelweiss’ decorate the stone as the man sands back up. The clear air seems suffocating around him. Nipping at his nape, brushing past his short jet black hair. 

The man stares at the memorial next of the grave, in it is a photo of a white and black haired man, with a familiar smile and twinkle in his mismatched eyes. The emerald eyes of the man are flooded with tears as he collapses onto the dirt path. 

“I’m sorry Vincent, you deserved so much.” The man, Gabriel chokes out in-between sobs, his years polling into the dirt bellow him. “I got that haircut you always wanted me to get, you were right I do look good.”

The man pours his heart out onto the dirt as he breaks down. The flowers planted at the graves are watered with his tears.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you Vincent, I just need you back.” He sobs, he doesn’t care about his designer suit or shoes covered in dirt as he weeps. “Please, come back to me Vincent.” 

“Please.”


	7. as he fell his laughter formed the most beautiful of stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like lilacs?

Rolling hills as far as the eye can see, covered in a thick layer of delicate gorgeous lilac flowers with their petals flowing in the wind. It’s peaceful. To my left the reason I’m here plucks flowers one by one as she hums a soft melody seemingly to the flowers. As if they could hear her. 

The fresh breeze flows past, shifting the gentle girl’s strawhat slightly as if flows through my hair and the leaves of the tree I’m resting under. It’s almost relaxing.

Of course I don’t have time for something as pointless as relaxing, it’s my mission to watch her and gain her trust. We’re not real friends, I’m not even supposed to have friends. 

Suddenly, the feeling of soft petals and winding stems appears atop my head. 

Lavish craning my head up I’m met with Dove’s gentle smile as she ilks down her sun hat a bit to stop the wind from blowing it away. Her long flowing locks of white hair that cascade down her back, flowing in the breeze. 

“Do you like it? I made it for you from the flowers I picked.” She explains, trodding towards me, making sure not to step on any flowers on the way.

“.. I don’t dislike it.” I reply as she sits down beside me.

“Hmm, that’s enough for me!” She hums happily before turning her head to the clear blue sky, illuminated by the sun’s blinding rays. “Do you know about Icarus?”

“What does he have to do with anything?”

“Well some people believe he was laughing as he fell!”  
“What king of sense does that make? Why would be glad to die if he was amped to escape just a bit earlier?”  
“I’m not sure, I guess seeing the sun was worth risking it all for him, what do you think?”

As I thought about such a stupid question my tar- Dove reached over and grabbed a dandelion, a mere weed. However in her fair hands and kind aura if felt more beautiful than any flower. She sucked in air and blew on it, letting them fly into the sky, out into the universe like “flowery kisses” as she says. They rain down around her as the sweetest and gentlest smile in the world graces her lips. And in that moment, in understand.

If I was Icarus, I’d have laughed too, I’d have smiled and rejoiced because as stupid as it feels, it’d be worth it just to see that kind of whimsical smile again.


	8. To let it all fade away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have dreams?

_Aim, Fire, Reload_

The cool surface of the killing machine reels as a soft shot rings out, muffled by the silencer as a body hits the floor hundreds of feet away. 

_Aim, Fire, Reload_

Another body,

_Aim, Fire, Reload_

and another,

_Aim, Fire, Reload_

and another. Thousands of numbers and digits whirring around as I calculate my earnings.

_Aim, Fire, Reload_

_“Do you ever think if it’s worth it? That one day you may wake up with all the money in the world, more empty than ever. Feeling as though life’s slipped through your fingers?”_

_Aim,_

_The blurred girl ponders the question, or was it the weapon? It’s hard to know, after all the malice and ability to kill is the human’s and not the weapon’s after all. It’s the wonder not the weapon._

_“I never do, I don’t need to. There’s no point in looking back at pointless nonsense, that’s how the world gets you.” The blurred girl responds._

_“You ever start to get those thoughts, you see average people, civilians as just numbers and earnings? The people you shoot as anything but human? Like this job is eating at you until you’re nothing more than a killing machine?”_

_Fire,_

_The blurred girl turns to the worried one, making her hands into a gun she points it to their head.  
“None of those things matter to me, all I have to do, is aim, fire, and reload.” She responds, her red swirled eyes dull. _

The blood from her targets washing over the floor as she looms over the bodies. Belly up in their own blood.

All she sees are dollar signs.


	9. neon lights and the night sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you believe in new beginnings?

A ashen haired young man whirrs along the streets atop a motorcycle. The world breezes past him as lights flash, flicker and illuminate the dark world around him. Behind the young man lies the sullen girl, her eyes sunken in with eyebags that seem almost permanent. 

The boy’s golden eyes look as though they’ve seen it all as they drive. The girl leans against him as they ride. 

The world lies far behind him as the stars dot around the sky like a picture perfect painting. The neon lights blurred around him, the cat eyed boy smiles.


	10. To crush or be crushed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have dreams?

Expensive looking leather shoes bound down the bustling halls of the school. Aspiring Rankers littering the halls, or so they say. It’s hard to believe this school is a prestigious one, what with the amount of dirt that manages to slip in here without anyone noticing. 

My golden eyes narrow as I glare ahead of me, towards the most obvious example of presumptuous trash in this school. The Little Dipper and his idiot cohorts.

The irritating red head laughs as the auburn haired girl besides hi flips her hair and says some stupid commoner joke I wouldn’t understand. The taller and more athletic looking silver haired girl mutter some other offhand comments to the side as she scours through her poorly managed locker. Walking away from them is Katherine Armond, daughter of the duke of Armond who Luke had just finished heckling to flip her hair but she refused and packed up.   
“C’mon little Miss perfect please?” He begged.

“No can do Luke I have class and so do you.” She explained before walking off.

“Wait you know that song?” The sliver haired girl asks.

“Duh, it’s like the gayness realization anthem who doesn’t?” Luke says before turning back to Amber who promptly flips her hair again.

And then there’s him. The source of my current problems, the annoying, bratty, useless, Mayhem Laurrance. 

“Alright one last time.” The auburn haired girl jokes, placing her hat in Luke’s hand as she flips her pair theatrically. “ _L’Oréal Paris_ “

The redhead breaks out laughing, clutching his stomach and he goes a stupid little wiggle where he stands while the sliver haired girl chuckles.

“Nah nah you gotta pronounce it without the s, French people don’t pronounce the s.” The quips before turning back towards them and by them I mean Mayhem and his idiot friends, I mean Luke and his idiot friends Mayhek doesn’t matter. “C’mon Mayhem you have the longest hair here, do it with me.”

The moment she mentions Mayhem my eyes wander slightly, not out of anticipation but to make fun of him when it goes awry. I slowly slip my book into my locker but after hearing cheers from my right I turn and promptly drop my books on sight. 

Mayhem, that irritable loser, flipped his silky black hair around his perfectly chiseled jawline with his Amber eyes peering off into the distance while the idiots said L’Oréal “Pari”. It felt, weird? My cheeks warmed and a fluttery feeling filled my chest and washed over entire body until I felt warm and weird. Quickly I bent down to retrieve my books, and scurried to class, not that I was embarrassed just because I didn’t want Mayhem to get the wrong idea.

For the first time in my life, I, Rudeus Von Flank, was late. Damn that Mayhem.  
\- - - - - - -   
_The rest of the day goes by like a blur, that stupid hair flip replaying in my mind over and over for no reason. It’s like he put a spell on me or something. But no matter, I glance up to the room number for my last class, History. Not my favorite but not the worst class. I crane the door open, a soft squeak echoing through the strangely empty halls until I’m met with an empty classroom except for one person._

_Mayhem._

_His jet black hair which usually cascades down his back, accentuating his.. uh, brainless face, now hung in a man bun. It looks uncomfortably good on him, which is weird Mayhem should never look good to me. I glance around the empty classroom. Avoiding meeting him in the eyes before eventually fumbling out some words despite the jackhammer that’s going on in my heart right now._

_“What are you doing I my classroom Mayhem?” I ask, my voice quivering a bit while Mayhem gives me a confused look, well half confused half unimpressed._

_“What are you talking about? You invited me up here he answers, however your some reason all I can look at is the incredibly polished tile floors that are suddenly the most interesting thing in the room._

_Anyways that’s nonsense I wouldn’t want him in my History class that’d just make learning about Christopher Cloum-whatever worse._

_“And why would I invite you to my history classroom Mayhem? To apologize? I have nothing to apologize for everything I’ve done to you you’ve deserved.”_

_“To kiss me.”_

_... what? Okay huh? Wh- what? Okay this is ridiculous and no my face isn’t crimson red imagining whatever he’s talking about he’s just fucking with me._

_“Okay what? I mean- what? I- we- I wouldn’t. Okay I’m flattered you’ve fallen for my charms but I don’t kiss dudes, but even if I did I wouldn’t kiss yo-“ I begin to say but before I can finish Mayhem cups my face, tilts it upwards, and places his lips on mine._

_Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat_

_As my brain basically fails me Mayhem continues to kiss me, it’s a fast and wild kiss. His lips tasting a bit like charred wood if I knew what that tasted like. It feels so.. untamed, filled with need, with want. I know is wrong to kiss the guy I’m supposed to hate but it feels weirdly right. I melt into the kiss, my knees growing weak as the temperature of the room drops slightly. His tongue intertwined with mine as we kiss wildly. Over and over he’ll pull back just to come back with more fervor which I’ll strangely accept._

_Eventually he pulls away, a thin string of our intertwined saliva being the only symbol of what happened left aside from our flushed faces. My cheeks still warm, Mayhem wipe his mouth with his sleeve before talking again._

_“So, you said everything you do to me is deserved right? Even what happened in that room?” He asks, my face growing even more flushed than ever before as memories of that strange dream come used to my head._

_However before I can respond I wake up._  
\- - - - -   
The flat room light hangs over my head as my eyes flash open. My face drenched in sweat as I contemplate the dream I just had.

“What Wh-“ I begin to say before the memories of the dream come back to me rapidly, my face flushing crimson for the 1000th time today.

Oh my god I had a dream where I kissed Mayhem of all people! A guy! I kissed a dude! In my dream, and I liked it. Oh my God. Not that kissing dudes is wrong, it’s just gay. That came out wrong, it’s just that I’m not gay. And even with I was not for Mayhem. I hate him. This is all because of that.... actually I’m not going to think about that right now.

I reach out for my phone and search up my Spotify daily mix to take my mind off of some things.

Okay let’s remember, I hate Mayhem, I hate his stupid opinions, his annoying snark, his frustrating electrical abilities, his stupid smirk that makes my heart flutter, his perfect face, tall figure, silky hair and- okay this isn’t working. 

I read over to my phone, hoping that if I play my Daily mix I can get my mind off of Mayhem. I lay down on my bed again, taking in deep breaths as the next song plays.

A keyboard plays some notes before it gets into the main song. 

_Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward_

Ugh, this is hopeless.


	11. the unification of oneself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have scars?

_Cut, pull, gut, squelch, pour, cut, pull, gut, squelch, pour, cut, pull, gut, squelch, pour, cut, pull, and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again_

Till the world ends, the boy laid bare, his heart exposed to the world in an act of futile kindness. Tears no longer pouring from his barren eyes as his gift was indulged in. Broken and torn apart, piece by piece, only to return again. The boy pours all he has for them, the boy gives it all and understands.

The endless looming fog that is death refusing to welcome him. The boy was content, the body was not his.

They delighted in him,

The boy was content

The body was not his.  
———————

The boy looks over a mirror, scars of his gifts trailing along the body as the boy glances in the mirror. Eyes peer back at him, though they feel like the eyes of another. 

The body staring back at him isn’t his. 

The boy curls up, arms too big, muscles unneeded for his gift, legs far too long, eyes no longer filled with pained acceptance. 

The boy breaks,

The boy cries,

For the body is not his.


	12. As the trumpets ring and the angels cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you believe in happy endings?

The dull eyed boy sat discarded in a corner, his body stained with signs of hated, bearing into him and eating him apart. The boy hung his head, hope for a life filled with joy or one where he could frolic in fields alongside his loved ones long gone. 

The boy’s soul had crumbled and turned to dust, slipping through the cracks of his scarred and bruised fingers. The most trapped in his throat almost choking him, the most that caused it all. 

If only he was normal, if only he wasn’t such a freak of nature. Maybe he could live normally.

From the dust of his heart, an Angel appeared.

The Angel whispered in his ear, his voice sweet and comforting, persuasive as it chimed.

“It isn’t your fault.” The Angel would say, the boy would ponder those words.

His parents- no, his captors wouldn’t agree. They hated him, cursed him and marked him with their hatred simply for existing. As though his mere comfort and happiness was truly wrong.

The Angel wouldn’t lie would they?

“I can help you, I can free you from these chains, I can save them too.” The Angel would say, the boy would ponder.

“You can live happily, your captors may not.” The Angel would say sweetly.

The boy obliged, he was blessed to have such a kind Angel lead him out from the dark.

However as the boy would come to know, the Angel would lie.

The Angel never truly cared for him at all.


	13. To rip and tear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you own markers?
> 
> Tw: Gore, self-harm, skin tearing.

The dazed man stood in front of a mirror, the body in front of him littered with scars and imperfections as he stared ahead at the face before him.

The man glanced over it, touched it, saw it’s curves, ours, depths, dimples, eyebrows, chin shape, cheekbones. He criticized every inch of it.

He did not like it, he bore the body’s fingers in and tore it off. The man could not bear a face that wasn’t his, and truly his.

He crossed it out and tried again.

The nose is too long, again.

The cheekbones are too flat, again.

Too prominent, again.

Too long of a chin, again.

Too short, again.

Too little, too much, so bland, so unnatural. 

The boy couldn’t find anything that fit. 

The b- man ceased to tear. The body’s blood dripping down the sink as the exposed nerves, blood vessels and fat screamed in pain. 

The man craned his head up, staring at the face in the mirror.

However instead of another mask to hate, another face to cast aside, instead of a bare and bloodied blank slate.

The boy saw pitch black.

And he screamed.


	14. In pursuit of the unobtainable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how high the ceiling is?

Greed (Latin: avaritia), also known as avarice, cupidity, or covetousness, is, like lust and gluttony, a sin of desire

The knight sits upon a decorated throne, atop a mound of riches. Gold pools through her fingers as she looks off to the ceiling. 

A golden crown atop her head she tilts back to look closer, narrowing her eyes as though it’s hard to see in the bright light of the riches bellow. Gold looking at her artificial limbs, paper money falling all around her as she stares, unfilled.

High above where the throne reaches a man floats above it all.

“I wonder, will I ever be able to reach you?” 

The man merely looms, never speaking but ever wise.

The riches rain down, the knight could almost hear the man speak.

“Y’know, they say that only the dead are truly free.”

The riches pool around her, the knight chokes.


	15. the reality of individuality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who are you?
> 
> Disclaimer: This includes implied sexual and physical abuse

The forgotten boy stands in front of the snake, the snake’s perceptive eyes shut as the boy stands away from him. 

The air around the is sharp and cool, almost palpable as he contemplates turning around and running off, allowing himself to be forgotten like he always was back at the orphanage. The snake’s eyes flit open with the same perpetual nondescript feeling or lack thereof laced into his eyes.

The same glance he would give him whenever the rush of bloodshed fades in Kou’s eyes, replaced with emptiness the snake would reciprocate 

_But he’s not here as Kou the abandoned or Kou the killer._

_He’s just here as Kou._

The snake’s mouth opens, the same voice that would break down and build up the ashen haired boy spilling from his lips.

“Who are you?” The snake asks.

_And who is that?_

————————————

“Who are you” the words followed him around like a plague.

The answer should be obvious isn’t it? I’m Kou, textbook answer.

But that meant nothing. There isn’t even a last name to attach to that. He’s got no parents after all. He’s born and the first thing that happens is he’s tossed away, unwanted by his own parent and the entire world, an unneeded fuck who should just disappear and die already. 

Maybe just my name won’t work, so what I have dozens of other things.

I’m Kou the killer. Except he can’t do that anymore, using the blood of others to drown myself in numbing anger and rage can’t be all he is, to be remembered as a mindless beast makes him less than human. It just makes him a mindless puppet.

I’m Kou, Alex’s brother. Except he was never seen that way, he was just a disposable toy easy to throw away and fucking forget about. Just like his parents did. Who cares about used goods anyways? Just act like a good boy and suck up to the cops like a fucking coward and see how far that gets you with him. It’s not like Alex loved him anyways, why remember a failure?

I’m Kou, best dude there is. 

Except he’s not, he fucking sucks. And everyone hates him, and why wouldn’t they? He hates himself too.

He hates how he’s just forgettable, left to rot while everyone else in the orphanage gets picked up. He hates how he allowed himself to get roped alongside someone who never cared about him in hopes of being loved like a fucking idiot. He hates how dirty he feels, how even if he brushes his teeth till blood drips into the sink he’ll still feel as disgusting and dirty as before. How he can scrub his arms till their numb and still feel their touches. Bathe in blood till his mind is numb and hear their mocking.

He hates how he didn’t matter to her, or anyone, mattered less than a man who never truly loved her. He hates how everyone sees him as a monster, even though he is, he hates it. He hates how Red sees him as a chance to help himself and not as a fucking person, just a worried child hopeless a he can play Saint with and help.

He hates how no one even noticed when he left as if he’s expendable, replaceable even though he probably is.

He hates how weak he feels, how no matter what he does he’s never good enough, strong enough for anybody.

He hates how easily he let Alex trample all over him as though the kicks and beatings didn’t matter. He hates how desperate for love and being wanted he was that he would let Alex do whatever as long as it meant he was needed. He hates how sometimes he still feels the same way.

He hates how he’s defined by other people and not by himself, even though he doesn’t know who that is.

He hates himself, but he doesn’t know himself.

He wants to love himself but he doesn’t know who that is.

Who am I? Who is he?

Who is Kou? Is that even his name? 

Why won’t anyone love me for me? 

Isn’t that obvious? No one knows you! 

No one knows me! 

The boy sits alone in the shower, water dripping along his red tinted scratch covered arms as blood drips from his mouth and he weeps.

“God please, somebody love me.” He sobs into the void.

“Who even are you?” The void answers back.


	16. On presentation and composure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tie a bowtie?

A sigh of frustration slips past the suit clad young man’s lips as he fumbles with the source of his frustration. It’s not like he didn’t know _how_ to tie a bow tie, this specific one was just being a bitch. 

He swears under his breath about the titular tie as he glances up in the mirror, his crisp white suit standing out against the black tie as he drops his hands from his tie to run them through his bright red hair, the curly locks nipping the back of his neck and a strand or two sweeping over his face.

“Huh, I should get a haircut sometime soon.” He sighs, not noticing a familiar auburn haired girl appearing behind him.

“Bummer, I like it long.” She noted, warranting Luke to jump in place before sighing when he realizes it’s just his girlfriend, his girlfriend in a suit.

Hot.

“Suit? No dress?” Luke asks, his eyes focused on his bowtie and totally not on how well that crimson and white striped suit suited her, totally not, nope.

“Yep, I’m in a suit mood today.” She explains, a hit of a flirtatious tone slipped in as she watch his fumble with his tie. “You need help?”

The literal red head turns to his auburn haired partner with a defeated look in his eyes acting as a silent ‘you don’t think?’. The mischievous girl snickers before reaching out towards him and tying his bowtie.

Her nimble fingers easily weave through the fabric, looping it and tying it beautifully as he watches attempting to figure it out. That and to watch his beautiful girlfriend perform a miracle, and totally not to count the number of freckles adoring her nose and cheeks like the sun’s kisses. Or to admire the almost hidden choker around her neck that he can barely see through her hair and dress shirt collar. Except he was doing all of those things at once, openly.

“Done.” She says stepping back a bit, doing a little jazz hands motion as he admires himself in the mirror. “Considering how hard you were staring at me you have to know how to do it by now.”

Caught red handed it seems.

“Ha ha, jokes on you I have it down solid now.” 

“Oh really?”

“Totally-“ he starts to say before being cut off my a firm hand grilling his bowtie and pulling it down and him with it before capturing his lips in theirs.

It’s a mix between a chaste and passionate kiss, leaning more on passionate as Luke slowly melts into it, enjoying the warmth and affection surging through him at a thousand miles per hour. Once he finally got truly into it however, she pulled away. 

She just played me didn’t she. 

She smirks before retrieving her hand from atop her head and placing it on the ground, hovering her left leg above it before stopping for a moment.

“Oh yeah, your bowtie’s untied” she says before slipping through her hat and to who knows where.


	17. billowing clouds and a poet’s words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know where the wind blows?

“Why do you hang out with me?”

The girl in question, startled out of her rambles about various different birds stops in her tracks. The soft springs breeze causing her simple daisy yellow dress to billow around her knees. She puts on a quizzical look as her nose scrunches, manages to look as adorable as ever while the flowers atop her head turn to Daisies.

The asker of said question’s mind runs a mile a minute. He ponders telling her never mind , that she doesn’t need to answer. 

“It was a stupid question”, he barters saying.

But that’s a lie, the question makes a lot of sense. Why would someone as kind and wonderful as Dove hang around with... well, someone as despicable as him?

It makes no sense, bad guys never get happy endings after all.

His striking pink eyes peer through his Snow White bangs as he awaits her answer, the shade of the tree not being enough to prevent the sweat trickling down his neck. 

Or maybe he’s just nervous, but about what?

“That’s a funny question. But honestly it’s hard to explain.” She chuckles before thinking again, her eyes sparkling with a glint of wonder as his question weighs on her mind.

For a moment they continue to stand on the same sidewalk, cars whizzing past as she continues to think, her soft cloud like hair flowing in the wind to the same breeze as the grass, trees and as she says “flowing winds of life”. His hair is too short to billow in the wind however, so it seems his bang covering his eyes will have to do.

He’s contemplating cutting it shorter before, at least slicking his bangs back, but Dove said she liked them, and besides gel as the weather got warmer was a death sentence.

(Dove was the main driving force though)

“I’ve got it! Poetry!” She exclaims, the flowers atop her head turning to sunflowers as she drags him to a familiar park bench.

“Poetry? What does that have to do with being friends with me? I’m not a poet.” He mutters confused as he sits down, the cool bench allowing him to rest his legs for a bit.

Poetry? How would she explain him? A wolf? Considering his magic he wouldn’t be shocked, maybe the moons. Distant, imposing, everything everyone sees him as.

“I’ll just explain why poetically!” Her voice breaks through his thoughts as she takes in a deep breath and allows her eyelids to flutter shut. “You’re like... a steep mountain cliff.”

“...what?”

“Lemme explain! Mountain Cliffs seem imposing! Really daunting up close and hard to get used to your first time around!”

“All this just to say you’re friends with me because I’m not that sociable?”

“I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT HIDE!” She laughs as she playfully punches him in the arm.

“It may seem daunting and cold from afar but the longer you spend on the mountain and the more you learn of its terrain and the grass up there, the intricate caves and soothing aura the more comforting it becomes. The soil and rock, people would assume to be cold and unyielding turns out to be warm and comforting. A steady rock, a pillar in the whirlwind of life that you need desperately.” She explains, her words flowing effortlessly into the wind and being carried to the mountainous boy. 

His pink eyes widen as he understands. He’s being complimented, he’s being _seen_ and he’s being understood. By the one person he wants by his side.

His first real friend.

“It’s like you’re in your own little corner of the world together, you find solace and comfort in your new home. Mountains are immovable forces, powerful, and always there for you, it’s not like they’d move after all. Hide, you’re my rock, something tangible and real. Someone to pull me down when my thoughts waver. Honestly I dunno what I’d do without you.” She admits a bit bashfu at the end, her flowers long turned to lilies as pink dusts her cheeks, the same pink coloring the pink eyed boy’s face as well.

She turns to face him, and notices tears spilling from his eyes.

“Hide! Are you alright? I didn’t mean to make you cry!” She says wiping a tear as he, albeit uncharacteristically, leans into the touch. 

She understands and cups his cheek, giving him a look laced with worry.

“I’m okay.” He chokes out, his prosthetic hand gripping his shirt as the tears roll. “It’s just-“

He looks into her eyes, allowing himself to find comfort in them.

(Those eyes, so full of joy, love and compassion. Those eyes aren’t ones you’d expect to see on someone whose lost so much. To still love after that, a level of naivety that’s almost foolish.)

“Thank you.” He manages to mutter loud enough that she can hear it.

She pulls him into an embrace, a comforting one with only the dawning sky, trees and spring wind as their ooh witness.


End file.
